This is a prototype of an 11 in x 8.25 in book featuring 175 pages of my writing & matte colored images, which is bound with a smoke colored fabric hardcover and a waxed cover dust jacket. It’s filled with journal entries, poems, photography, paintings and memories of my experiences in Big Sur.

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I made this book last summer while maintaining my full-time job and pursuing art. I made 1 initial copy which amounted to a grand total of $200 after shipping.

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From this copy, my girlfriend Madeline, a talented writer and editor, helped make adjustments to which I printed out 3 more copies to give as gifts for another grand total of $500.

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I made some additional final edits and printed out 2 more copies for $400, which I’m now using as a showcase item in manager meetings to collaborate on a book for them. I’m using the book as a conversation starter as well as to showcase my talents and give them an idea of what I’m capable of offering for editorial, design and publishing work.

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A personal project which started out as a fun idea for family and friends is now turning not only into a product I can offer for sale through my shop but also physical locations like book stores and gift shops. It’s a product that can be used to capture my vision, express it and do so while storytelling and inspiring. The art can turn into money from the sales of the book but also now can be used as leverage in meetings as a skill set.

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Turning something like journaling, documenting my experiences and practices, painting, photography, poetry and creative practices can be connected and compiled into a book people can hold and feel.

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Information taken from my Instagram, my notebooks and my notes on my iPhone are what allowed me to create this.

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Now I’m in the development phase of this project to figure out details, final touches, adjustments and changes that are needed before doing larger scale printing.

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I’m speaking to a printing company and awaiting samples to proceed forward and make this book available at a price point worthy and affordable for my audience.

Here I have some small prints ($25), large prints ($60), my Big Sur inspired book “Off the Grid” and some abstract ocean paintings with “Mr. Bixby” and a circle window piece.

A work in progress at my easel for the day!

This was the first time I’ve done a pop-up and the first time I painted in front of onlookers which was both fun and terrifying. It wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be but I suppose it’s normal to overthink it and get nervous before a new experience. I hope to do many more in the future :)

I work as a server at a restaurant on a property with a gallery space. The reason I decided to work there was to feature my art in the gallery and to serve nights at the restaurant.

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3 years ago that was only a dream. At the time, I turned down a serving job 10 minutes away from my house to instead work at Post Ranch in Big Sur as a busser, which requires an hour+ commute there and another hour back each day. I worked double shifts at first, arriving at work at 7:30 am in a blue shirt for breakfast & lunch, then changing into a black shirt to food run until I left at 9:45pm. Eventually I was promoted to lunch service and instead worked from 10:30am to 9:45pm. Then I picked up my first dinner shift 6 months later when someone called in sick. I’d cover every single dinner shift that was put up by my coworkers until finally they began putting me on the schedule to work nights.

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While I worked my way through the ranks, I was also continuing to paint in my free time. I created a 6 piece collection for a restaurant in Carmel. Once the new restaurant opened with my artwork on the walls, I began picking up 2 shifts a week there while continuing my usual work load at Post Ranch. I somehow managed to keep painting between the 2 restaurant jobs.

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I pestered Post Ranch to feature my work and was turned down incessantly. I didn’t have work that fit with their aesthetic so the no’s became a weekly habit for an entire year...so I stopped reaching out and quietly continued painting in my studio.

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2 years after my initial hire at Post Ranch, the art curator at the property approached me and inquired about my latest work. He asked me to bring it in and he placed it on the walls immediately. I sold 3 pieces so a couple months ago he asked me to put together a show.

Yesterday I hung up my art on the walls, walked up the hill, put on my apron, and worked a dinner shift as usual.

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No one really knows the story behind the scenes. They see only the surface of the canvas. A series of brushstrokes and colors.

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Hard work, loyalty, practice, curiosity, persistence, love and a vision I had 3 years ago made this real.

- Last night had one of those surreal moments that I'll never forget. I had gone to work at the restaurant feeling pretty exhausted from not having slept much and for having had to wake up early to get art professionally photographed.-Since I'm a server, I was running around all over the place, taking orders, pouring wine, checking in with guests, food running and clearing plates. In the middle of service I was tapped on the shoulder by one of my coworkers saying that a table wanted to speak with me when I got a chance.-When my section settled down and I had a moment, I walked on over to a lovely couple I had served a few nights before. The first thing they said when I came by to say hi was "I know you're busy so I don't want to take up too much of your time, but we bought your painting "Solitude" this morning."-It's very surreal when I come to think of it. One of the main reasons I began working where I work was because I wanted to feature my art on the property and work there as a server. I started out bussing, then ran food, worked lunch service and now I'm a full-time night server. It took 2 years before the art curator agreed to showcase my work and here I am, fulfilling my goals. I want to say a big thank you out to the universe to all the people who helped make this dream possible. 😊🙏🏻❤️ -

Sometimes I feel so far away. My mind can’t help but wander to all those places I hope to travel to. All those distant worlds. All those paintings on the walls. All those conversations with the ones I love. All those things that make me smile or laugh and for a split second, make me feel a sense of belonging and alignment. The things that remind me that this matters.

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How can I make my life be about these things rather than the things that make me feel so far away from who I am. How do I remain faithful to myself when the disconnect between how I feel and how I want to feel is wider than I can handle.

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Dissatisfaction conquers me and for a moment I am truly lost.

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It’s a peculiar feeling, almost like a bitter after taste or a dry throat that can’t cough up the right words. A knot in the stomach. A tightness constricting the lungs, suffocating and stealing breaths. It’s staying in bed until noon. To hide away and wait for it all to go away or maybe just disappear. Dissatisfaction is the enemy of gratitude and the companion to hopelessness. When it happens to me, it’s rockbottom, panic attacks, sweating from the stress, yelling fuck at the top of my lungs in my car while driving or crying after a hard day at work. It’s feeling trapped in a prison of my own making.

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There have been moments in my life that brought me to my knees. Moments when I didn’t know who I was anymore. These experiences questioned my very existence leading me down a path that I feared I wouldn’t be able to escape. Life goes on, even if I can’t keep up with the pace. But each time is different. Sometimes the pain came unexpectedly through a surprise attack or it took a more direct approach like a head on collision. In other instances, it was a slow creeping sensation that trickled in leaving me feeling like I was possessed. Taken over by the voices telling me how my world is ending, how I’m going to die, how I am unworthy, unnecessary and unlovable. I let my environment and circumstances dictate who I am and where I go.

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I get lost.

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Finding my way back is like pressing the restart button. Each becomes a beginning, but with a new perspective, new options and new questions. The pain, struggle and suffering become my teachers. Lessons learned. Revelations of sorts.

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It’s good pain.

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Reminders of what was and what can be if I’m not careful. That a chapter has ended and new one has begun. When I hit my lowest point—when I am defeated and broken, hope reaches out and I become open to the greatest change. Maybe I don’t ask for any of it but in many ways, the things that can’t be changed end up changing me. Because deep down, I’m more resilient and adaptable than I realize. Deep down, I want to find myself. I want to succeed. I want to love and respect the person I see in the mirror and I want to see that person become the best version possible.

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I am enduring but a flicker in time. I am allowed to feel whatever it is I am feeling but I can’t let it consume me. As the narrator and main character of this story, I get to write each chapter as I experience it. I can choose to stay where I am, or try and find my way back home. To recenter, readjust my approach, heal and turn my scars into strengths that motivate me to chase my dreams and self actualize. Even though life isn’t as I imagined it to be, and even if I am weak at times, I am still strong enough to endure, grow, change, and become the person I have always wanted to become.

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Breaking the negative feedback loop of beating myself, letting go of high expectations or perfectionism, accepting the devastation and allowing the hurtful emotions to flow through and not remain is the most difficult of all. Softening my approach to how I treat my mind, body, and spirit by returning to my roots and spending time with my thoughts as well as by reaching out to friends and family for support is what has guided me back to love. I give myself permission to be vulnerable and to feel all those things I need to feel and say all those things I need to say. To take the heavy burden of life and to ask for help so that the pain can be alleviated through empathy, human connection and touch. It is simply a right of passage and an expression of what it means to be human. At the end of the day, we are all just trying to figure it out.

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Life is both beautiful and harsh at the very same time and it’s only by spending time with the ones I love and who love me that I am reminded of the marvel that is living. This is not a journey to take on alone, at least not when everything seems to be falling apart.

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I am so much more than just my pain, my struggles, my shame or my insecurities. There is a light inside me that dims, flickers, or shuts off when life gets unbearable. Sometimes it’s a person who takes away my power and turns it off. Sometimes life happens and turns it off. Sometimes I make mistakes or forget my purpose and I turn it off myself. It can stay dark for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and at it’s most insidious—years.

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Sometimes the pain people carry is too much to handle. It’s enough to make them sad or numb until they die. It’s the greatest tragedy, that of missed connection, missed opportunity, missed belonging, missed calling and missed gratitude.

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To stay alive is challenging, but to keep the soul alive is the hardest. Figuring out who am, what my purpose is, and how to design my life has been the greatest adventure of all. It can’t always be pretty, enjoyable, delicious, sexy or exciting. The heartbreak is necessary to understand the full spectrum of emotion, contrast the light, and to appreciate the good times when they come. But even with all it’s imperfections, I can’t help but feel optimistic. I’m not going to be here forever so while I still remain, I want to make my life a work of art, painted with love and attention, filled with beauty, grace, gratitude, depth, texture, vision and all the things that remind me that this matters.

- I'm truly speechless. I had no expectations of New York before coming here and I must honestly say, I have been treated with the utmost respect and kindness. I'm still trying to process how lucky I am.

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I've been enjoying the museums, galleries, book stores, coffee shops and ramen 😉 but the highlight of this trip are the people I've met. I'm blown away by their openness, generosity, and refreshing perspectives on how they see the world. In a short amount of time I've been welcomed and greeted with smiles and even in the hustle and bustle stage that is New York, people have taken the time to slow down for me so I can catch up! To stop what they are doing and lend me a hand with directions on the subway, to listen to me talk about the things I care about or to just be real & authentic as they share their stories. I'm incredibly inspired and thoroughly enjoying this cultural hub with an affinity for creativity.

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I would also like to take the time to say thank you to Marta, Maiya, and Julia for hosting me in the most tasteful apartment I have ever laid eyes on. I'd like to Thank Zach, Jen, and Raul for creating a magnificent show last night. I'm so grateful to have been a part of the 7th Annual Supersonic Invitational at Spoke Art with some of my all-time favorite artists. What a blessing!

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And to everyone who came out to support the show or root for me here online, I want to thank you as well. You are as much a part of this journey as I am and I can't take all the credit. Behind every painting and every word I say, I've been influenced by people like you who take the time to care, reach out, support and contribute to keeping me accountable and aligned with my goals! You've become a part of me.

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As a side note, I'm bundled up and cozy cause I've also never experienced cold like this since 2002. #doublesocks #doublescarves #itsworthit💯

I thought I'd start off this year by answering one of the most asked questions I get. It's a difficult topic to address and one of the hardest to solve. Mostly because what I'm about to share is controversial to some and not a beautifully packaged answer most creatives want to hear. This is not a short list response or quick fix post. I'm not here to tell you it's easy. I'm not here to sugarcoat. I'm here to tell you what I know from a humble opinion amongst a sea of many who are probably more capable and more of an expert than I am about this subject. So before I get into it, this is my warning.-One of the major struggles I as a creative have had to learn to overcome to produce the kind of content I connect with, is that of the art block. Quite frankly, I'm not a huge fan of the term. It ignites an image of a physical barrier like a tall brick wall with barbed wire fence, or the form of total paralysis in an idea-less artist staring at a blank canvas.-The art block is often depicted as an external force, an impregnable fortress guarding promises of loot and treasure. A devilish character with no origin story, forged in the name of stopping anything cool from happening, on a die hard mission to kill dreams and not give a f**k either.-I used to think that art blocks purposefully held me back from accessing the flow of creativity--Like it chose me & I seemed to be the only one who didn't have the gate code.-Well, first things first, I am very transparent and blatantly admit to going through these temporary phases where no work is created. That is to say, I've figured out how to get over an art block through a method I use on a daily basis and this only happened recently within the last year or two. It wasn't until I reframed my approach and recognized that 99% of art blocks are self-induced, that I was able to challenge my perception of the definition of an art block and stand up to it, to face it head on.-So how do I defend my creativity to overcome such a ruthless cause? I lean into the art block and ask it these questions:-"What are you? Where did you come from" and lastly, "Why are you here?"

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Art blocks are shape-shifters, capable of appearing under many names and in any situation. For now just to simplify, I'll give 3 major types of art blocks I find to be tricky and sometimes not all that easy to spot. The body, mind & spirit are all connected and creativity is the element that binds and intertwines them so that an artist can do what he/she does best--Make art! From these 3 major sources for creativity, different types of art blocks may appear to impede the flow of work.-Body: Sometimes health and basic necessities can distract creative work but I'd say that the majority of art blocks are mental or spiritual. Biological functions can be a major art block like trying to work when I'm hungry(checking the fridge 6 times to see if anything new appeared since the last visit). Is it dehydration, or total exhaustion from non-related art projects that are zapping the creative juices? Maybe I need a nap? Listening to what my body wants and requires can get me started off in the right direction.-Mind: A lot of the blame is usually associated with a lack of ideas but I'd highly disagree. Every day little micro-ideas and micro-inspirations appear left and right. They come in the form of bursts of dopamine from naturally occurring curiosities like exposure to novelty, interests, hobbies, sports, tv, music, podcasts, conversations. What really stops me every time is fear--This voice inside my head telling me to stop being creative. But that's impossible--Just the act of living is creative.-Spirit: In some cases, It can a be a spiritual art block, like refusing to surrender control to an external source--An unexplainable force like the Universe, God, Hope, Faith, Magic, the Process or whatever you want to call it. This is something that can only be felt and trusted for its power to work. Combine this belief with an attitude to move forward and rely on not only one's own set of abilities & values but that of another is what I call realistic optimism.-Asking specific detailed inquisitive questions can sometimes lead to some awesome, helpful and insightful answers. So, are you willing to make time for your art?

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The other art block I've recognized as playing a major role in preventing art from being made is that of external forces. In simpler terms--the environment.-Major influencers in how a creative develops is the situations in which he/she subjugates themselves to. In essence, we are all a product of our environments.-These last few years, I've surrounded myself with people who encourage and support me on my journey as an emerging artist. So for instance, when I initially couldn't find my tribe in my hometown, I travelled to discover it, or when I had nowhere to turn to talk about the things I care about, I turned to my journals or expressed myself online. I reached out to connect with other like-minded individuals who care for my well being and push me to improve and pursue a lifestyle that aligns with who I am as both a person and artist.-When I felt uncomfortable in my workspace, I invested out of pocket to design a studio space that helped me stay focused on my vision and goals in life.-When I felt unhappy with my job's working conditions I quit to go to another job where I felt more respected and appreciated. When I felt disatisfied with the kind of money I was making in a position, I worked to improve and gain more knowledge to make more money.-When I didn't like the life I was living, I made changes to make a life I love.-My life is messy and full of challenges but I'm flowing with it. Obstacles, art blocks, struggles and all those things that cause pain, they are as much a part of my story as the successes, milestones or paintings I create.-I am here. I am present and no art block is too big to not overcome. -

- Today marks the last day of 2017. If I am to be completely honest with you, I don’t pay much attention to the date, let alone the time. Whether the sun is up or down, whether it’s a weekday or weekend, whether its winter, spring, summer or fall. I treat each and every day the same. The whole concept of time doesn’t really apply to me since I’m bad at listening to society’s definition of a biological clock, or refuse to acknowledge grey hairs as an emblem of old age, or the notion of the successful young archetype typically associated with early and effortless success. Well to whoever created these supposed cultural ideals and norms, I’d like to introduce you to my middle finger as I walk away laughing to go focus on my dreams. I can’t afford to waste a single second of my time and energy on that sort of nonsense. The only time that matters to me is the kind that separates this post, to the box that awaits me six feet below the earth. And since I don’t know when that moment will I arrive, I choose to utilize, maximize, acknowledge, appreciate, and engage all the time that I can get.

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I used to associate success with crossing off certain goals by a certain age but life taught me a valuable lesson. It’s never too early to start and it’s never too late to start. Each day becomes a chance to earn my freedom, to live a life with intention, to educate my self, to acquire a new set of skills, to refine my abilities, to make an idea happen, and to be who I am.

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To me, that means being able to work on the things I enjoy doing most, which typically revolve around creative projects. These intellectual curiosities challenge and encourage my inner self-expression, thus allowing my true nature to thrive. Every day I do my best––To show up, pursue excellence, and bring my best self so that one day, I do not depend on others or have my entire livelihood be subjected to employers, potential crashes, crises, overtakes, economic downturns or environmental factors. To be able to take my thoughts, feelings and emotions and give them a voice through art that supports and embellishes my lifestyle. To build a fully liberated and unfettered free life that belongs to me. -

- I'm not here to advocate perfection. Not even close. I'm here to advocate progression.

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I want creatives to see the ins and outs of the beautiful but challenging process of pursing an interest and making it a part of a daily routine. To not fall in love with the final product but the steps in between that made it all possible. To have fun making cool shit. Just because they can.

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My parents never forced me to do anything, especially not art. They encouraged my art but they didn't put me in classes. They didn't pay for my education because I never asked them to. I didn't go to college by choice. Because I didn't want to study something I didn't believe in. Especially right out of high school when I didn't know who I was or what I wanted.

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I've spent the last 6 years since graduating exploring all these various aspects of life and only recently came to the conclusion that art was something I actually enjoy. Something I could envision playing a larger role in both my life and others. I do these things for me, but I share what I do because it helps me understand and find meaning to my world, which then allows me to connect with a larger audience. However, no one is going to care about me as much as I do. So I've taken the initiative to pursue my creativity, listen to my gut, contemplate my possibilities and try my best to make my goals a reality.

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I've made a conscious decision to spend time with art, work hard at it, learn from it, and grow along side it. A choice has been made. All of this--This is the trajectory of an emerging artist. This, is mine.

- Being a creative without an audience. I'm still asking myself how to cope with this very real sensation of having invested all these hours, poured my soul into my craft, maybe even threw in a kidney and donated a gallon of tears to the cause, only to then be sitting at the edge of my seat with my left eye twitching watching paint dry. Now what?

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Learning to become accustomed with the fact that everything has a humble beginning. That even though I'm gaining some traction, I am far from earning a solid income from art. I can honestly tell you that I've invested more money in my art this year than I have earned back. Last year however, I was able to make enough to cover my entire life's expenses of art supplies including this year and probably next year. This is to say, that there are lean years and fat years and boy was this an eat top ramen and crumbs from underneath the toaster kind of year for my art.

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Now if I were to base this year on things I've learned, connections made, business acumen and marketing skills developed or level of dedication to the practice. Well by those standards I am bloody successful! Financially...ehhhh, well not so much.

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But I show up regardless wether anyone else does. Because I've had enough tastes of the possibilities to keep my interest and I want to see my talents grow. It has me waking up early, drooling all day, and then staying up late until my contacts fall out.

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I must admit, social media has been a contributing factor in helping me stay accountable and on track. Having this audience has both encouraged and challenged my overall beliefs around creativity and community and I hope you all know I appreciate all the positivity and support. A year ago I had 4,000 followers and now I've hit 30k. There are enough seats at the table for all of us to sit down and we can all have our own personal spot. It's there, waiting for you to decide to grab a chair, pick an empty space and declare ownership of that seat. Why don't you join me alongside the other artists, painters, photographers, videographers, woodworkers, writers, designers, speakers, entrepreneurs and any creative kindred spirit who wants to make ideas happen. -

- Designing my own studio space provides a canvas, to which I am grateful and lucky to be able to color with my experiences, my artifacts and tools of the trade, arranged to inspire and unleash the artist within. This project of redoing the studio was like a detox for my brain. I was able to empty out all the drawers, so that I could reduce clutter that had been clouding my mind, cleansing and filtering out years of unkept things. I was able to get rid of furniture that was only there for decoration rather than for actual use. I minimized, simplified and catered the room to my creativity. A comfortable chair for reading in the morning when I wake up to a warm cup of coffee and a good book with a blanket. A leather sofa and lounge area for when I have friends over for wine or a kickback. A long wide desk since this is where I spend half my time drawing, researching, editing photos, and writing. A soft rug under my easel for catching paint to protect the hardwood floors. A couple of rolling carts to keep supplies for easy access and storage. A little twin bed in the corner for if I want to take an afternoon nap.

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And personal touches incorporated throughout the white landscape to make this place sacred. A Mexican avocado green blanket from one of my summer trips, Himalayan prayer flags gifted by a friend, a painted tin cup I use for turpentine from my artist mentor, a wooden piggy bank from Cambodia to collect coins, a concrete table built to hold my prized collection of coffee table books. And last but not least, a handful of my paintings up on the wall, to remind myself of my journey as an emerging artist.

- I think I was born afraid. Fear has challenged almost every aspect of my life. It haunts my every action, questions my every motive, and tugs at my sleeve to pull away when things get up close and personal. I always plan 10 steps ahead to give myself room to adapt and change course should any sign of danger or discomfort arise. The only problem is that it's inevitable and impossible to avoid vulnerability, people, or places of judgment. It's everywhere and can come from any direction and at any time.

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Especially when I decide to go paint. There is always a moment of doubt right before I start. I can sense the anxiety and the desire to run away kick in when I approach the easel. I wonder if this will be the time that I truly f**k up. That I spill the paint over all my hard work. That I forget the steps or can't seem to get the right colors--Or that the composition is off and I have to restart--That I'll spend all this time and energy on a piece only to look at it and hate it. The voices--These insecurities, these deceptions, these fears. They've always been there, and unfortunately most likely will always be there... But it doesn't stop me. I'm not afraid to be afraid. I don't always know what I'm doing but I do know some things. Enough to start. Just enough to try.

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My brain wasn't designed to make me happy. It was designed to keep me alive, safe and comfortable. In the studio, I hear my brain but I also hear another voice.

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My heart tells me a different story. It reveals the mask of fear and peels it back allowing a light to shine through. It wants to push me to become what I've always wanted to be. It wants to guide me to explore new spaces within my soul and to connect those places with the outside world. To find a way to merge human nature with global nature. To show that we are all connected, even if most folks don't act like it. It tells me to paint even when I'm afraid. Just one brush stroke at a time. And eventually I stand back from the canvas and see the work I put in and I think to myself, "How on earth did I do that?" And I'll tell you how--It's because I trusted my heart and my gut, and they always seem to know what I need and want most. -

I was reading and came across a word I wasn't quite sure of. It felt oddly familiar but truthfully I had no idea of it's meaning so I looked it up in the dictionary.

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Inexorable: Impossible to stop or prevent. Not able to be moved by entreaty or persuasion. Relentless.

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Even though I didn't fully understand the weight of the word before finding it's definition, a part of me felt connected to it. Enough to write down this unknown word in my phone to check back on it later. And here we are, some odd 8 hours later finding out the answer to the question.

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I didn't go to college and I sure as hell didn't pay attention in class in high school. It wasn't my thing. I felt really disconnected to people and especially from the subjects in school. So I guess the idea of school or learning wasn't my thing. I couldn't justify the effort demanded of me or the time commitment expected of me. I used to keep my head down in my books and study and get good grades, but then one day I looked up at my life and I just didn't care. Depression is a tricky thing. It sneaks up on you. It's a way out. It's an escape. It's a lonely place to be, but if you dwell in that place long enough, the lights go out, the ground swallows you up, and it becomes your home. It comes in many shapes and sizes, colors and cultures, and it's pain ranges on a spectrum from bleeding out uncontrollably to being numb—both of which eventually festers and scars.

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Depression doesn't care who it infects--doesn't discriminate by gender, race, social or political status. It simply follows where it's called upon.

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As a sensitive artist, I felt like I was doomed to follow in the footsteps of so many others before me. If it wasn't the drink, it was going to be a broken heart, a noose, pills, or maybe a disease that would lead to my untimely demise. The hurt would make my work better but it would take me down a road I wouldn't be able to return from.

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Life in high school was hard for me. I was in pain, nobody noticed, and I didn’t talk about it. Sometimes I look back at my years spent in that place between hell and reality. I didn’t even see it coming or know it’s name until I was caught in the middle of it.

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I never expected to be overcome by depression.

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Maybe it had always been there, chasing after me or perhaps it took more of subtle approach and lingered like a shadow. Maybe I didn't know I had that power—that special kind of hurt inside. Or maybe I was destined for it. My discovery of the weight of this world would one day become too much for me to comprehend and too much for me to handle. It would eventually instill in me a distrust, a fear and a hopelessness that never really goes away. The inexorable truth of the human condition. A reminder that pain and suffering is inevitable. Nobody makes it out unscathed either.

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It took a really long time, to let myself feel again. The healing process was slow and steady and developing trust in others and myself has been a gradual, daily challenge. I don’t know if everyone experiences this as well but because of the nature of my life, I’ve endured both physical and mental pain. The physical came with an autoimmune disease and disability. The mental came with depression and loneliness.

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These things broke me for a while, and truthfully I don’t really know why those things happened and if they could have been prevented. I can’t live in what if’s though. I survived and I overcame these moments that could have taken over my life and taken away what little I had left during my lowest lows.

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But it didn’t. Because a part of me still wanted to live. A part of me recognized that I had demons, and I had scars and maybe even at one time in my life, I had actual crutches. But so what. I still wanted to experience it all. There was this need to breathe, to consume the air and atmosphere and the people and joys of possibility. There was this desire to find a way out, and make my life beautiful. To make my life a body of work painted with meaning and purpose.

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And the only way out was through. To endure and overcome, and to be courageous enough to be vulnerable again. To let my armor down, open my arms and allow my soft spots to show and in those moments when I could have been gunned down, crushed or beaten, I was greeted to kindness, loyalty, and to love. I learned to trust strangers again, giving others the power to destroy me—But the ones that truly mattered instead chose to see me as I am, and appreciate me regardless.

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Inexorable love.

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I have not abandoned myself. My spirit, although bruised and saddened by the challenges I’ve experienced, has remained intact—Grateful in fact for the priceless knowledge and life lessons gained along the way. My commitment to myself and to my craft refuses to stop and hide from it’s potential. All those things I dream of, write down in my journals or whisper underneath my breathe to a shooting star—Those things are inevitable. I welcome adversity. I am not afraid of the pain anymore. It can slow me down, try and lock me up, take away my things or hurt me, but it can not take away the freedom I cary within. And even if I fail and fail again, I will remain faithful to the work and my inexorable love of life.

I often get asked why I paint surrealism and how I came up with the concept of juxtaposing portraits with landscapes.

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I've gone through many different styles and mediums throughout my life but oil paints are this complex, fascinating tool I've been using mostly in the last 3 years. Getting to understand how the paints interact with one another, color mixing, introducing texture, and the application of multiple layers for a desired effect have been both challenging and encouraging, but I think surrealism was really what kept my attention interested even in those rough spots. Being able to capture a thought or a feeling in such a way that usually only exists within my crazy little brain has been new territory to explore. The novelty of being able to invent and paint a vision that used to only breathe within my imagination, and I, as an artist, then having the power to share that point of view and make it a reality.

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With each painting, I welcome others into my world of paints, brushes, canvases and dream-like states. At the end of the process, I leave behind a souvenir for myself and others to enjoy.

I came up with the concept of juxtaposing people with landscapes within the portrait as a result of so many different reasons, it would be hard to pinpoint the original seed, but I can tell you where known influences came from.

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I was frustrated because I didn't want to paint another landscape or another portrait. I wanted to do something unique.

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I recently discovered contemporary and modern artists through social media(mostly Tumblr and Instagram) that weren't painting traditional scenes, or in traditional styles. They were creating their own voices in art which I felt both inspired and jealous of, but mostly curious which I then became obsessed with!

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I began to introduce philosophy, and personal themes into my art. I wanted my art to have meaning and depth beyond the illusion of capturing the light and the mood. I wanted it to be real, to me at least.

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I have to give credit to happy accidents because some things aren't completely planned!

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I had tons of sketches and mock ups of potential pieces which I was going to work in series and make a collection. I asked my brother for advice and his point of view and he kept rejecting my ideas calling them cheesy, trying too hard, copying too much, or just doesn't feel right. When I showed him the concept of a wave on a face he said "Yes! That's the one!"

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I wanted to tell the story. The story of being trapped in a world, devoid of color, which at the time involved dealing with health issues, and wanting to escape to travel the world. I don't mind talking about it now but it wasn't the case back in 2015 when I first began this journey as an emerging artist.

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I had been dealing with chronic pain in my lower limbs and joints throughout my body for about 3 years which I had been sucking up and ignoring before the crescendo when my health took a turn for the worse and I had to quit my two jobs and relied on crutches to move around. I went from traveling, working, and being independent to becoming handicapped and living in constant pain with no explanation.

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I just remember feeling helpless, but mostly ashamed. I didn't want people to see me and think-- unemployed, uneducated(didn't go to college), broke, out of shape, and cripple. I didn't want people to notice my crutches or my cast before they noticed me. I was embarrassed to be sick. I kept thinking, I'm 22. I'm supposed to be in the best shape of my life, full of energy and hungry for more and instead my days are being spent laying down, medicating and researching to figure out how to get better."

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It was during this time that I asked myself some tough questions about what direction in life I wanted to take and what was realistic and what was fantasy.

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In September of 2015, I was diagnosed with an auto immune disease where my body's immune system attacks it's healthy cells and in my case it mostly affects my joints and bones. If you know me well, I'm usually very active, going to the gym, playing sports, or running along the coast. I usually work a couple jobs in order to finance my lengthy trips living abroad, however all of that stopped because the pain got so severe.

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I didn't want my physical condition to define who I was as a person so after I decided to accept that this "thing" was gonna stick around for a while, I wanted my actions and my thoughts to represent the real me.

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I never really wanted to be an artist. I never wanted to carry that kind of responsibility and I didn't want to be labeled, or even worse, taken as a fool and a fraud. I know now that being an artist is much more than a title. Being an artist is listening to your heart-- it's capturing the vision only your mind’s eye can see, and having the courage to take that idea from a simple concept and to cultivate it until it becomes a reality. That is what I call art. To be an artist is to reveal truth from within. I made the overnight change to become a full-time artist and to focus my attention to creating. This switch allowed me to brainstorm and to come up with my latest collection of black and white portraits featuring colorful landscapes on birch wood panels. The portraits I paint offer insight into my world, and reveal an air of disconnectedness with an undercurrent of nostalgia— in other words, the painted figures seek to escape their reality, and to travel to those distant places painted across their faces. This series was very cathartic in the sense that although I felt trapped in my body and my new life seemed so dull and gray, I could still rely on my ability to dream and my curiosity for the world to not only escape myself, but also find myself.

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Using art as a tool to both capture my pain, and deliver myself of it, helped me in the healing process and allowed me to regain my spirits, trust in myself, and in a way, find truth and acceptance to the things I can not change.

I met Sarah Kabat-Marcy in January of 2016, on my first day of work at Sierra Mar in Big Sur. I had just been hired the week prior and was undergoing training. While I sat there talking to my fellow colleagues during our meal break, I introduced myself and explained the inspiration and ideas behind the "Off the Grid" series. Sarah, who at the time was sitting a few tables over to my right, overheard me and asked to see some of my work. I showed her my painting of "Mr. Bixby" on my iPhone and she asked for my website.

As a result, we met up for coffee and I brought over the magazine portfolio I had designed and she discussed the possibility of commissioning paintings for "Cultura", a new latin american influenced restaurant set to open up later that year. She showed me the space: a dark, dusty, stained-carpet dive-bar hidden in a back-alley with a mountain of chairs in the corner climbing up to the ceiling. The place had definitely seen brighter days. I used to go there years ago after viewing art shows with my family– we'd head over there afterward and have a bite to eat and chat.

We strolled the space and she gave me her vision of this dining room filled with a NY men's lounge red leather couches, touches of vibrant avocado green accents, detailed still-lifes spread throughout, skulls, bones, and an assortment of agave plants. Sarah envisioned blending the bizarre with the beautiful, the offbeat with the contemporary, a classic apothecary with a oaxacan bar, the traditional with the modern. What amazed me most, was the trust she confided in me, and the full creative freedom I was given for the installation pieces. She explained that she didn't want to intrude on my creative process and didn't want to disrupt the integrity of my work by adding her influence.

I went home that night and came up with the concept of having women posing in renaissance-esque poses. I didn't know where to go from there but it took about another month before we finally came to the conclusion that we didn't want to go with the typical vibrant brightly colored vibe. I went with muted tones of black and white and added touches of red to their lips, and greens to their earrings, an electrical hummingbird or a bat mid-flight, a spark of pure zinc white in their pupil. Just as the "Off the Grid" collection was important to me and personal on so many levels, I wanted this series to tell a story that was true to "Cultura." The series entitled "Las Mezcalilleras" represents and voices of the women who've helped in the cultivation, distillation, and traditions of mezcal production.

Sarah is an extremely knowledgable sommelier with an amazing understanding of food and beverage, which she is currently translating to mezcal spirits. She carefully selected five different types of agave used in making mezcal and gave me a list of distinct characteristics for each of them. Based off of these descriptors, I created a women embodying those personality traits, each with a different backstory and an energy true to the spirt of their corresponding agave. Isabella displays maturity, Beatriz–curiosity, Gabriela–spiciness, Teresa–rarity, Carmen–approachability.

I met with my art mentor Pamela Carrol before I signed contracts in search of advice and recommendations for how much to charge for the work Sarah was asking for, which included the logo, graphic design work, creating a brand identity and the five paintings. I gave her my thoughts on the prices I was planning on offering for the individual tasks, and she told me to do what I thought was appropriate. It's uncomfortable for an artist, especially one that doesn't know what they are doing, to ask for money. Especially when the client is paying for something that hasn't been created yet. Nevertheless, I offered Sarah an outline of my quote for the project and the work that entailed for each part. She listened carefully, didn't flinch when she saw the numbers, and she took out her checkbook and gave me a 50% deposit. I don't think people understand what a defining moment in my life that was for me. I felt like I was truly seen as an artist for the first time in my life. Sarah, presented me with an amazing opportunity to showcase my talents and I refused to let her down. I can honestly say, she was the first person to take me seriously as an artist and to support me not just with encouragement, but financially as well.

The following 5 months would become a whirlwind of mixed emotions, late night struggles in the studio, long days at the restaurant, exhausting visits to the gym and never-ending rounds of coffee to stay afloat. Adulting 80 hours a week is what that's called. Looking back on it all, it was a testing time for me. I wasn't sure if I was capable of doing it, nor that I was going to be able to survive, let alone succeed.

And yet I survived. I'm still here. Still breathing. Still working. Still painting.

The restaurant opened it's doors and was received with open arms throughout the community. Quite frankly, it took the Peninsula by a storm and seeing the restaurant fully-booked on weekends was like music to my ears. I began serving there a couple nights a week to supplement my income and every once in a while I'd look up from the tables and see my art on the walls and it'd hit me as to how far I've come.

The Cultura contract was one of the most challenging and testing moments in my life and it pushed me passed my limits and even beyond that. I'm oh so grateful for the opportunity I was given by Sarah and I will never forget this moment for as long as I live. Even though I endured a lot of setbacks, mistakes, pain, problems and struggles, it was totally worth every second of it.

Self initiated projects are side projects that are grown organically over long stretches of time. Most often these little fun ideas are created as a result of curiosity, a personal interest, or the desire to prove to one self what they are capable of.